


A Place For The Broken

by DepravedAndUnstable



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:04:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepravedAndUnstable/pseuds/DepravedAndUnstable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts Harry Potter finds himself face to face with an old enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ever On And On

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfiction. 
> 
> It is also unbetaed so all mistakes are my own.

 

_“Harry couldn’t explain, even to himself, why he didn’t just throw Riddle’s diary away. The fact was that even though he knew the diary was blank, he kept absentmindedly picking it up and turning the pages, as though it were a story he wanted to finish. And while Harry was sure he had never heard the name T. M. Riddle before, it still seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Riddle was a friend he’d had when he was very small, and had half forgotten.”_

_-J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

 

 

 

The full moon was drowsily making its way out of the sky, to make way for the encroaching dawn, and the Hogwarts grounds were all but deserted. Of the few staff members that had remained over the summer break, all were sound asleep. The night owls had already shuffled off to bed, and the early birds hadn’t yet deemed it time to rise. The grounds should have remained undisturbed for yet a few more hours, but in the stillness of the early morning a group of figures in dark cloaks darted out of the Forbidden Forest, heading towards the school.

There were five figures in all, but they had no obvious leader. In their hurried pace it didn’t seem they were following anyone and it didn’t matter who took the lead. Some carried heavy books, while others had their wands at the ready, but all of them had the same weariness about them as if expecting a fight at any moment.

They would need to be quick if there was even a chance of their mad plan succeeding.

They paused at an inconspicuous side entrance, the few with wands feverishly waving them about and murmuring complex spells. It was a few tense moments, in which they were all filled with doubt and dread, before the door gently pushed itself open, and they were admitted entrance.

As they took those first steps into the castle, they could almost taste their victory. They could feel it in the air surrounding them, sweetly whispering sought after promises.

Tonight, they would be reunited with their beloved dark lord, and they would be greatly rewarded for all their troubles.

***

It was a large golden owl, with soft feathers and a vicious bite that woke Harry from his nightmare. Five years after the war and he was still having them almost every time he closed his eyes. Glimpses of broken bodies with familiar faces and the sound of a cold, merciless laugh haunted his dreams.

Harry slowly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and regarded the owl before him. It hooted impatiently and stuck out its leg, unimpressed with his slow pace. Groggily he untied the bit of parchment presented to him and the bird immediately flew off in a rush. Glancing at the battered piece of paper, it was clear it had been sent in an even bigger hurry than it was received. It looked like someone had torn off a corner of what was likely the nearest bit of parchment and quickly scrawled a few sloppy words onto it. Reading them, Harry jolted fully awake.

The letter read:

_Harry, Death Eaters at Hogwarts. Hurry._

It wasn’t signed, but the hand writing was easily recognized as Neville’s.

After the second it took to read and understand the ramifications of the letters content, Harry bolted out of bed and hurriedly looked for something to wear.

Since the Battle of Hogwarts, the savior of the wizarding world had been living a rather dull life. He’d been eagerly welcomed by the Ministry of Magic when he’d joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an Auror. He’d hoped a few good fights with some dangerous dark wizards would be a distraction from the ceaseless guilt he felt over all the lives lost because of him, but in truth he got more action in the training fields. It wasn’t that they never sent him out into combat. Far from it. Any and every chance they could they sent out the famous Harry Potter, with his legendary scar and rumored invulnerability, the person who had defeated the most powerful dark wizard of the century, perhaps of all time. The sight of him, or even just the mention of his name, had most sane wizards up to no good running for the hills. As soon as he showed up the dark wizards usually either surrendered or tried to flee.

The Death Eaters were his only challenge. Despite Voldemorts death, the Death Eaters still survived. Some had been killed during the battle for Hogwarts, and many more had been tried and sent to Azkaban. Still, there were a few who had managed to elude the Aurors for these past years. They stirred up trouble when they could and refused to let the world forget about their master and his deeds. They recruited new members with the promise that Voldemort would rise again, and people actually believed them, after all he’d done it before.

The Head of the Auror Department had placed Harry in charge of hunting down the remaining Death Eaters and disbanding the group. It was nearly unheard of for someone so young to be given such a position, but no one under his leadership had ever shown Harry anything but respect and complete faith in his decisions. Harry actually found that the Death Eaters were the only ones who would stick around and give him a fight. It wasn’t that they didn’t fear him like the others, he had a feeling they feared him the most, but their hatred for him greatly outweighed that fear.

He quickly threw on his crumpled Auror robes that were still lying on the ground exactly where he'd thrown them last night. Checking his pocket he noted his wand was still in it. He then dove into the closet and grabbed his broomstick. Sprinting as fast as he could outside, he apparated the moment he was past the wards he kept in place around his home. Hogsmead swirled into view and he immediately mounted his Firebolt to fly the rest of the way to Hogwarts.

The castle looked exactly the same as it always had, untouched by time. He hadn’t been back since the final battle, and honestly was having a hard time figuring out how he felt about this all. Hogwarts was the only place that had ever truly felt like home to him, but it was also where many of his friends had been murdered. He pushed all such thoughts to the back of his mind, deciding there were more pressing matters to deal with at the moment, and he’d evaluate his emotions later, likely with a strong drink in hand.

He landed elegantly, outside the school’s main entrance and began running the second his feet touched the ground, dropping his broom carelessly on the steps. The giant doors were opened invitingly, and he’d only just entered the castle before spotting Neville Longbottom waiting anxiously for him.

Neville had been given the position of Herbology teacher just a few months ago, but before that he had been helping Harry hunt down the Death Eaters. He’d likely taken the position expecting to get away from all of this. Harry didn’t even have to say anything. Falling back on old habits, Neville started filling him in the moment he was in ear shot.

“I sent out a few more owls. One to the Ministry and one to Ron. But you’re the first to arrive.” Neville shifted nervously from foot to foot. “There’s five of them. They went straight to the Slytherin Common room. No idea what they want or what they’re after. The only reason we even know they’re here is because one of the portraits saw them and woke the Headmistress.”

Harry considered this. What could possibly be in the Slytherin Dormitories worth breaking into Hogwarts for. Since the war had ended, security had been seriously improved in the school. It’s a wonder they’d made it this far, and undetected. It had to be either a very brilliant plan or a very stupid one that had made them all willing to risk their necks. Either way, something had to be done and quickly. Because no matter what plan they had concocted, the Death Eaters end game was never a good one, and he couldn’t let them get whatever it is they were after.

“The teachers?” He glanced at Neville.

“The ones that are on the grounds are all waiting in the dungeons just outside the entrance. Got them trapped inside, but we didn’t want to go charging in just yet.” Neville gave a tired smile, and Harry couldn’t help but notice that his old friend, who’d always been gentle and avoided conflict, was far more comfortable with this situation than he would have liked.“Not without some backup.”

Backup. How much longer would it be before the Ministry responded? Harry knew there were protocols that needed to be followed, permission that needed to be given, decisions that had to be made. Could they afford to wait? He didn’t want to make the teachers of Hogwarts again fight for their school and their lives, but it didn’t look like they’d have much choice. They had almost no information and that left them at the disadvantage. They couldn’t waste time waiting.

Just as he was about to turn towards the dungeons, Ron came running inside, panting and out of breath. Relief flooded Harry, there was no one he trusted more to watch his back, and now he wasn’t the only Auror on the grounds. All they did was nod at each other and Harry updated him in just a few words on the situation before the three of them headed down into the dungeons.

***

The fight was over quickly, and honestly there wasn’t much of a fight. Harry, Ron, and the Hogwarts teachers had rushed inside the Slytherin Common room with wands raised. They’d outnumbered the Death Eaters almost two to one, and that wasn’t the only thing in their favor. Nearly half of the cloaked idiots had been more interested in drawing scribbles on the ground than in actually defending themselves. It’d all been over in less than a few minutes.

Harry needn’t have worried so much. There were no casualties and almost no injuries on their side. The worst of it was the new potions professor who had lost her right hand, but she seemed unperturbed, even excitedly listing off the ingredients she’d need for the potion to grow it back, as Professor Flitwick stopped the bleeding. However, most of them didn’t even have a scratch.

The Death Eaters hadn’t been so lucky. They looked battered and beaten. A few were even knocked unconscious. They all sat now, by an empty fire place, their backs pressed together and their hands all tied by a bright glowing rope that McGonagall had conjured up. All five of them refused to say anything, choosing instead to glare silently. This didn’t bother Harry in the least. Whatever their plan had been, it’d been stopped. And the Ministry would be here soon to take Voldemorts supporters into custody. No doubt their intentions would come to light soon. He’d have a neatly written report about it on his desk by tomorrow.

The ancient runes professor seemed to be trying to put it together himself. He was toeing the circle of strange marks on the floor with suspicion, being careful not to touch any of them.

Harry had sent Neville back upstairs to great the Aurors when they arrived and lead them through the dungeons. That left Harry and Ron to make awkward small talk with teachers they hadn’t seen in years, and avoid eye contact with each other. Harry and Ginny were going through another break, and like all the other times it left a strain on Harry’s relationship with Ron. The red head claimed he didn’t want to take sides, and honestly tried not to, but it was still difficult to be as relaxed around each other as they usually were.

It was when Ron was bragging to the Headmistress about a book his wife had just published that Harry felt something off. Glancing toward the Death Eaters he saw they were all still tied tightly together. They weren’t a threat any longer. He cast his eyes about the room, looking for whatever was filling him with this foreboding feeling, but nothing looked amiss.

Then a cry of triumph came from the Ancient Ruins professor, drawing everyone’s attention towards him.

“I’ve got it!”He gleefully gestured toward the ground to the circle of nonsense he’d been studying. “I’ve finally got it! This. This right here, see?” and he jumped up and down a bit while pointing towards something that to Harry looked remarkably like the letter R. “That translates to _journey_. And the triangular one all the way on the other side there is the rune for _ti_ -” but he didn’t get to finish his impromptu lesson.

In his excitement, he’d bounced himself into the circle. His shoe smudged a small, unimportant looking symbol and that must have been all that was needed because it started to faintly glow. Like dominoes falling one by one the symbols around it began to glow as well. The intensity of their brightness grew with each symbol that lit up until Harry had to squint to keep his eyes open. 

Everyone took an instinctive step back.

“Professor! Get off of it!” Ron shouted at him, making wild gestures with his hands to make the importance of his words clear, but he didn't dare move closer. “Get off!”

But the Professor, who Harry suddenly realized he had fought beside but he didn't even know his name, was glued to the spot. He stared down at the glowing symbols, watching as they slowly began to move, his face stuck somewhere between terror and amazement. His whole body seemed to have frozen. The Professor wasn't going anywhere.

Shock. He was in shock.

Harry had seen it many times and recognized it just a second before he took action.

Darting forward, he rushed past Ron and the Hogwarts teachers. Having no time for delicacy he crashed himself into the shocked Professor and knocked him completely out of the strange circle that was now radiating with light. The Professor fell over and crashed over the back of a sofa. Safe.

Harry had no time to celebrate, though. Looking down, he found that when he'd knocked the Professor out he'd knocked himself in.

He was now on his hands and knees directly in the center of the circle.

It's symbols were moving faster and faster now, spiraling in towards the center, towards Harry. They were a blur and he couldn't make any of them out now, they were just streams of light pulsing below where he knelt.

Shakily he tried to get to his feet, to get away, but he couldn't. Something was pulling down at him, it was like gravity had gone haywire and was making even the slightest of movements difficult. Still he tried, straining his muscles he managed to drag his hand a few inches forward, but then the pull got stronger, and he fell forward. He lay flat unable to move a muscle.

Shouts of his name could be heard from around the room. They were panicking. They didn't know what to do. He wanted to tell them to do nothing, to not risk getting themselves caught, but even his jaw felt too heavy to move.

As the lights burned brighter, blinding him, he looked out across the room. He didn't really know what he was looking for, maybe Ron, to tell him with his eyes that it was going to be fine. But his eyes didn't find Ron.

They found a Death Eater.

She wasn't very old, maybe in her early thirties. Her hair was already streaked with grays, and her clothes were a dull faded color that would have been unflattering on anyone. She was still bound to her fellow extremists, and her body and face were littered with dozens of scrapes and bruises. A particularly nasty gash above her left eye was sluggishly dripping down her face. Her face. That was what cut Harry to his core. He had seen many horrors over the years. Had seen others witness these horrors and the effects it had on them. But never. Never had he seen that look on someones face before. She was terrified. Not just terrified. It was deeper than that. She was looking at Harry like he'd just opened the gates to hell.

That was the last thing he saw.

The light had reached an intensity that forced his eyes closed.

He lay there helpless, blinded and unable to even twitch, as he awaited a fate that not even his enemy wished upon him.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. A Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the kudos! It honestly means a lot to me that people are enjoying the story so far.

 

 

It felt like something was pulling at him from all directions. Insistently and ceaselessly it stretched him thin, until he was ripped into thousands of different pieces and scattered in the breeze. It was painful, it was confusing, and it seemed to be never ending. Time had disappeared and left Harry alone. A minute, an hour, a lifetime. He had no idea how long he had already endured this or how much longer he would have to. He wished it would all just end, so he could face whatever fate awaited him, and that wish was whisked away into eternity and he found he couldn't call it back no matter how hard he tried.

He gave up. He let himself be pulled and stretched. He became apathetic to the ripping and scattering. He was numbed to the pain and confusion. He let the bright light burn and consume him. Then darkness crept forward and he welcomed it too.

***

When he came to, the first thing Harry noticed was the softness of the rug underneath him. Say what you will about Slytherins, but their tastes in the finer things are unparalleled.

The next thing he became aware of was a strange feeling in his forehead. Not painful exactly, but definitely sore. A small throbbing, as if he was being poked gently right where his scar was. It was strange but nothing alarming.

He lay still, eyes kept closed, as he took stock of his body. There was no more pain, in fact he was feeling rather comfortable just lying there on the plush rug. He was tempted for a moment to stay there and maybe drift off, but then he remembered the circle of weird scribbles and the bright lights and he knew he had to get up and make sure it hadn’t done any damage.

He slowly opened his eyes and was grateful the room had become dim. It must be late. How long had he been out? Gingerly he sat up and looked down at himself. He still had all four limbs. That was something. Whatever that circle had done, it hadn’t hurt him in any way. They’d have to run some tests, no doubt. To be safe. To be cautious. He’d tell the team of Aurors when they arrived about his headache, but he thought it was most likely from passing out. Nothing that was really a reason to worry. It’d pass in just a few minutes he was sure.

Cautiously, a bit worried pain would flare up at any moment, Harry began pulling himself to his feet. Looking around he noticed the room was empty. Everyone, the death eaters, the teachers, even Ron, was gone. He felt fear begin to claw at him as he was forced to entertain the thought that the circle may have left him unscathed, but done something horrible to everyone outside of it.

Then those thoughts were derailed by a familiar voice.

“Are you all right?” It asked softly.

Harry froze, caught in an awkward pose halfway between a crouch and standing. He recognized that voice. Would recognize it anywhere. He could never forget it, despite his best efforts, despite numerous nights drinking. That was Voldemort’s voice.

“Pardon me, but are you hurt?”

It sounded a bit strange though, slightly different from the last time he’d heard it. The core of it was the same, but it wasn’t the cold, high pitch from Harry’s nightmares. It was warm and gentle and sent a shiver down his spine for completely different reasons. It was even thick with concern. But all that, he knew, had to be fake.

A gentle glow was coming from a lit fireplace, the only source of light in the dimmed room, and it drew Harry’s eyes to it as if they were moths. This was the same fireplace that some time ago (Minutes? Weeks? Years?) the group of Death Eaters had been bound in front of, but now a single figure sat in a chair beside it.

How had he not noticed him there before?

A single glance showed not the thin pale snake-faced man he’d last seen, but a youth full of life and elegance. He wore the face of Tom Riddle. He looked exactly the same as Harry remembered from the memories Dumbledore had showed him years ago. Luscious jet black hair, dark glinting eyes, and a perfectly sculpted face that could make an angel weep with jealousy. There was even a head boy badge shining proudly in the light from where it was fastened onto his Slytherin robes.

For a moment Harry thought – hoped, wished – that he’d somehow fallen into a memory, but the young man was looking directly at him with a practiced worried expression painted onto his face. He was speaking to Harry, could see him, and in the memories he’d never been anything more than an invisible spectator. Harry tensed. This was real. Somehow the person in front of him was _really_ there.

“Can you hear me?” Then Tom was moving up from his seat, and making his way towards Harry.

He was within touching distance before Harry even thought to react. Instantly he was on unsteady feet and taking quick steps backwards, away from the monster in the room.

“S-stay back.” To his absolute shame his voice shook and broke.

“It’s alright.” Tom held up his hands, palms forward in a placating manner. He continued towards Harry, but was slower now, more careful. “I won’t hurt you.”

Liar. He’d never done anything but.

Harry shoved a hand into his pocket, reaching for his wand, and seeing this Tom stopped his approach, but he kept his hands up and that fake worried expression in place.

“What is this? How are you here?” Harry demanded. It made no sense. How was Tom Riddle here? Where was Ron and everyone else?

“You’re at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I am a student here, head boy in fact.” His answer was calm, and he offered a smile that to most anyone else would have been soothing. “Do you remember how you got here?”

Of course he did. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that a dead man was here with him.

“It was your Death Eaters and that stupid circle of theirs.” Harry put as much venom into his voice as he could to make up for the previous shake in it, he didn’t want to show any weakness to his enemy, but Tom was unaffected. “Am I… did they kill me?”

That made sense. He thought back to the last time he’d died, when he'd met Dumbledore at the Kings Cross. Perhaps that’s what this was. Some kind of gateway into the afterlife and for whatever reason Tom had come to greet him. Maybe that wasn’t so farfetched. He knew the Slitherin would love nothing more than to lead him into Hell.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you aren’t dead.” Tom waved off that idea as if it was nothing more than a piece of stray lent. “What circle are you talking about? And what are Death Eaters?”

It was Tom’s last question more than his assurances that convinced Harry he wasn’t dead. In death Dumbledore had been, if possible, even more knowledgeable than in life. If Tom really had no idea about his own Death Eaters then…

And now that he really looked for it, there was no enmity in the person in front of him. The man, boy really, wasn’t just pretending to be unhostile, he didn’t see Harry as a threat. Voldemort had always seen him as, at the very least, an annoyance, but Harry sensed nothing more than curiosity coming from the boy before him.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been terribly rude haven’t I?” Tom appeared to attribute his lack of communication to a social affront. “I’m Tom Riddle. May I ask your name, Sir?”

Harry blinked. And then blinked again. Tom didn’t know who he was.

“I’m Harry Potter.”

“Harry.” His name came out as a purr. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Now, do you remember how you got here?”

The head boys face was serene, and Harry got the feeling, he didn’t know how, that Tom wasn’t playing any game, at least not about this. This version of Voldemort had no idea who he was or what history they had together.

Oh no. No. No. NO. He couldn’t _really_ be Tom Riddle.

“There was a bright flash of light, and then suddenly there you were, passed out on the floor. How did you do it? The wards around Hogwarts are supposed to be impenetrable.” It wasn’t even Harry he was curious about. It was the way he’d gotten here. No doubt the ability to come and go from the school magically would be very useful to a future dark lord.

“Tom?”

“Yes, Harry?”

The young Auror eyed the badge on Tom's chest and the all too familiar ring glistening from his finger. He thought back to his lessons with Dumbledore and did some quick math in his head.

“Is it 1944?”

Tom lifted an eyebrow. Other than that his face didn’t change at all, but again Harry felt… something, a strange tickling in the back of his mind that told him the young dark lord was annoyed by the question. “Of course it is. Has been for eight months. Now, how did you get into the school?”

Harry’s fingers curled around his wand. As always, it grounded him, helped to focus on the problem before him. Facts. Think of the facts.

He was in the past. That ridiculous magic circle had sent him back in time and it was August of 1944.

Tom Riddle would have made two Horcruxes by now. The diary and the ring.

Tom Riddle had murdered Moaning Myrtle last school year and Tom Riddle Sr. and both his grandparents this past summer. But he had not yet murdered, or ordered the murders, of anyone else.

Cedric Diggory. Sirius Black. Albus Dumbledore. Lilly and James Potter. Severus Snape. Remus Lupin. Alastor Moody. The list went on and on. These people hadn’t been killed yet, most hadn’t even been born. Harry was in the past and he had a once in a lifetime chance to change history.

He could kill Tom Riddle.

Right here.

Right now.

Before he gained power and ruined the lives of thousands of people. Harry could save them all, everyone he’d lost in the war. He could save everyone.

His wand was out and pointed directly at the head boy before he’d even finished that last thought.

The concerned, caring mask on Tom’s face fell away in an instant and his face finally matched the feelings of annoyance and distaste Harry had detected through whatever strange connection they shared. “Put away your wand before you do something you'll regret. I may be a student, but that does not mean I should be underestimated.” The threat dripped dangerously from Tom’s mouth. It wasn’t idle.

Nearly quicker than Harry’s eyes could detect Tom reached into his pocket for his own wand, but for once, after twenty-two years, Harry had the upper hand. He was a trained Auror and had far more combat experience than the student in front of him. He saw the movement and reacted immediately.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

Tom’s wand flew through the air and landed in Harry’s waiting outstretched hand. This was it. Without a wand Tom could do nothing but glare at him. He had to do this now. One simple spell and everything would be different, better.

Just one spell. It would be easy. He'd done this before.

He opened his mouth, the first syllable on his tongue, and…

He couldn’t.

All those lives on the line, and he just couldn’t do it. His absurdly inaccurate moral compass just wouldn’t let him.

Even after five years as an Auror for the ministry, Harry had only been forced to take one life. Voldemorts.

He looked at the man, _boy_ , in front of him. He took in the anger burning in his eyes. He might be a manipulative sadistic asshole, he might even be a murderer, but he wasn’t Lord Voldemort. He was Tom Riddle. A young wizard with no family, no home, and far too much in common with Harry. He wasn’t yet the monster he was fated to become.

He'd only been able to kill Voldemort because there was no other choice. But this was... He had a choice here, and besides, he tried weakly to rationalize, killing Tom might destroy his chances of getting home. He might never be born or something. Step on a butterfly and all that.

Tension he hadn’t realized was there slipped out of his body. This was his choice. He wouldn’t do this. He’d leave Tom here and find a way home to the future where he and his friends had _won_.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

The future dark lord fell stiffly to the ground, hitting his head hard. He'd have a nasty bump at the very least. Harry stood over him, too exhausted now to really feel anything but an echo of an anger that he knew didn’t really belong to him.

He dropped the wand that would one day be used to murder his parents. It clattered loudly to the stone floor and sent an echo through the empty common room. Harry turned on his heel and walked out the entrance, in search of the one man who he trusted to help him out of this mess. 


	3. Time Travel 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait! Here is chapter three and just in time for thanksgiving! I hope you all have an amazing day :)

 

As he ran through the deserted, dark halls of Hogwarts Harry tried very hard to ignore the feeling that he’d somehow failed. He’d taken the moral high ground sure, but he’d also given up his only chance of ever seeing his lost loved ones again. He couldn’t quite keep their disappointed faces from flitting across his mind.

Cutting threw a courtyard, Harry distracted himself by focusing on what he thought had most likely been the Death Eaters plan. If they had been the ones to be sent back in time, then they would have found and served the future Lord Voldemort. Rita Skeeter had published a biography on Harry’s life years ago and Voldemort had been a very large part of Harry’s life. Though most of it was inaccurate, the bits of truth were more than enough. Most of the mystery behind the rise and fall of the Dark Lord was common knowledge now. With the help of the future Death Eaters, Tom would have… Harry didn’t even want to think too deeply on how that would have affected history.

It was very lucky Harry, Ron, and the Hogwarts teachers had stopped the Death Eaters before they’d been able to activate the circle themselves.

Then another alarming thought hit him. Had he himself already done damage to the future?

He could still remember how insistent Hermione had been in their third year that they not be seen by anyone when they went back in time to save Sirius. She’d gone on about the consequences and how horribly wrong it could all go, but she'd never gone into too much detail. How would his brief meeting with the young Tom Riddle affect things in the future? Would it at all? Or was this like the time he’d seen himself casting the patronus from across the lake and somehow it would work itself out?

Panting for breath Harry and his uncomfortable train of thought came to a halt outside of the Transfigurations Professor’s office. When Harry had attended Hogwarts it had belonged to Professor McGonagall, but here in the year 1944 it should be where he’d find none other than Albus Dumbledore.

If there was anyone that he could trust to help him find the way back to his own time it was Dumbledore.

Harry knocked on the door three times and held his breath.

It was as silent on the other side of the door as it was out in the hall. All that Harry could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Finally, after he’d spent a fair amount of time wondering if he should try knocking again, the door opened.

“Yes?”

There stood the familiar figure of Albus Dumbledore. He looked much the same as Harry remembered, except he was missing some wrinkles and had a few streaks of color in his long beard that hadn’t been there before. He still had on a pair of half-moon spectacles and his eyes still twinkled brightly from behind them.

“Err… Sorry to bother you, but I…” Harry was at a loss for words. Not sure how to get started, not how to make his story believable.

“I take it you need my help with something?” Of course, no matter how young he was, Dumbledore still had the uncanny ability to know more than he should.

“Uh… Well, yeah actually.”

“Then do come in,” The future headmaster stepped aside and made a welcoming sweep with his arm. “I’ve just made a pot of tea. Would you like some?”

“No. No, thank you.” Harry stepped inside the office, a bit perturbed he’d been invited in so easily.

“You sure? Perhaps I can interest you in a lemon drop? They’re a kind of muggle candy I’ve recently become quit fond of.”

Harry just shook his head.

Dumbledore moved briskly around his well-lit office and settled into a chair behind his desk. He took a couple of sips from a large steaming teacup, and looked expectantly at Harry. “As this is my office you’ve stumbled into, I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me to assume that you know who I am, but I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to make you’re acquaintance before.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry. My name is Harry. Harry Potter.” He took one of the seats on the opposite side of the desk, and had an odd moment where he felt like he was again a student awaiting punishment for breaking the school rules. “And I know this is strange, Professor Dumbledore, but I _have_ met you before. It’s just that you haven’t met me yet.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore took another sip from his cup as if what Harry had said was a very normal thing for a stranger to say to him.

“Yes. You see, I… I was accidentally sent back in time.” Harry waited for the confusion, the disbelief, but it never came.

“Time travel? Tricky business indeed. However, isn’t one of most important rules of traveling through time that you are never to tell anyone you’re a time traveler?”

“It is, but like I said I was sent back on accident. It wasn’t my spell that sent me back here and I have no idea how to reverse it. I was hoping you could help me, Professor.”

A grim expression passed over Dumbledore’s face. “Exactly how far into the past are you, Harry?”

“It was 2003 when I was sent back so that would make me about… fifty-nine years in the past? Wow. Does that make reversing the spell more difficult?”

“Not at all.” Relief filled Harry. “Because there is no reverse spell.”

The floor seemed to drop out from beneath him. “What? No there must be.”

“I’m sorry,” and he did truly look sorry, “but while magic makes it possible for us to travel backwards in time, it is still impossible to travel forward, other than through normal means. I’m afraid if you wish to return to the year 2003 you’ll have to take the long way around with the rest of us.”

“I don’t understand. How is it not possible? We’re wizards! We have magic! Anything is possible for us.” Harry was on his feet. He no longer felt that sitting was bearable. “If we can travel through time backwards, then why can’t we travel the other way too?”

Dumbledore gently set down his cup and pressed his two hands together beneath his chin. He looked like he was about to tackle a rather difficult question.

“You see, though some would argue that time is fluid, the past is most definitely in a solid state. It is unchangeable. It is set in stone. That is why we can venture backwards in time safely, because it is stable. The future on the other hand, that is forever in an _unstable_ state. Every single decision made by every single conscious mind is forever altering it. What was expected to happen a moment ago can become highly improbable in the next. The future is constantly shifting, and therefore we cannot simply jump ahead into it. Even if we did, somehow, find a way I wouldn’t do it. There’s no knowing what kind of future I’d be sending you into.”

“But it is known! I’ve been there! I’m from there…”

At this Dumbledore’s expression became even more somber. “I’m afraid you haven’t. As I said, the future is always changing, and you yourself have changed it simply by coming here, to my office, and asking for my help. The future that you come from no longer exists.”

Harry’s legs felt as though they were made of jelly. He was forced to collapse back into the chair behind him.

“But… but how?”

“Because by coming here, to me, that tells me that one day I will become someone that you trust, someone close to you.” Harry nodded numbly in agreement. “Just that knowledge on its own is very capable of altering my own timeline. The most obvious being I now know I lived long enough to have met you. Not to mention how it might affect our future relationship. Even these minute changes are enough. Especially since you are so far back, and I have decades to mull over this encounter.”

“What if after you help me find a way, what if we whipped your memory?” And Toms as well, but Harry didn’t mention that.

“And what of all the time I would lose? Time I would have occupied elsewhere, perhaps with my students. This could alter one of their futures, still making yours unreachable. I’m sorry, but the year 1944 is now your present.”

Harry didn’t doubt him. He might never see his friends again. Hermione, Ron, Neville. It was almost like they’d died, but really they'd never been born. And Ginny… The things he’d said to her the last time they’d talked. He hadn’t meant half of it, but he’d been so angry…

And now he was stuck here. In 1944.

Wonderful.

But then again…

“So then no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to go back?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“So, knowing what I know, how things will turn out, don’t you think I should try to make them better?”

“That is all any of us can do, try to make things better. But I caution you, it is just as likely your actions will have the opposite effect and make things worse.”

Harry considered this a moment. But honestly it had been a very long day, and he was really too exhausted to properly deal with all this information right now.

“I think I’d like that cup of tea now, if you don’t mind.”

Dumbledore gave him a warm smile that made his heart ache a bit from the memories it conjured. Not a minute later he was nursing a cup of warm tea, and trying to broach the subject of Tom Riddle.

 

***

 

When Tom finally recovered from the stunning spell, he was livid. Though a good deal of that was directed at the mysterious Harry Potter who had gotten the better of him, the majority of his rage was at himself. He’d let his guard down. It was just as much his fault he was hit with that spell as it was the caster of it.

When Harry had first appeared in the room Tom had felt… something. A feeling he was unfamiliar with, but it had made him want to reach out for the man. To make sure he wasn’t hurt. To calm him down and offer comfort.

Tom had _never_ had such urges before. Not in his whole life.

It was that feeling that had made him lower his guard. That had tricked him into thinking the stranger could be trusted, because at the core that’s what it was. The feeling that Harry was someone he could trust and so someone he should take care of.

Tom had learned long ago that emotions often betrayed you. They made you weak and sloppy and tonight he had been reminded of that. Perhaps he should on some level be grateful to Harry for helping him to remember, because it was a lesson he would never forget again.

Tom picked himself up off the ground with as much grace as was possible for the action. He carefully inspected his robes and whipped away any specs of dirt. His disheveled hair was smoothed down until it was once again perfectly in place.

He needed to look presentable if he was going to go to the headmaster.

A nasty smile spread over his handsome face.

After all, there was a dangerous, unknown wizard running around Hogwarts, one who had already attacked the head boy and the headmaster needed to be informed. Harry had to be hunted down before he did harm to anyone else.

Yes. That sounded good. Dippet, the simpleton, would eat it up.

Tom would naturally offer to help, the Good Samaritan that he was. Oh how he hopped he’d be the one to find him. There might even be time for a little bit of fun before he had to hand him over. Harry would regret not accepting Tom’s gracious kindness. By the end of the night Tom would make him understand what it meant to be the enemy of the great and powerful Lord Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long winded speeches in this chapter. Essentially it's just my way of making sure Harry stays where he is :)


	4. Do You Know Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are a lot of questions asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, everyone :/ the first part of this chapter was really hard for me to get through, and I'm still not too happy with how it came out. But it's plot, so it had to be done.   
> Anyway I hope you all enjoy it! And thank you all again for the lovely comments :) they really helped me get motivated!

Harry was onto his second cup of tea, and had indulged in a handful of lemon drops, by the time he managed to bring up Tom’s name. The effect it had on Dumbledore was instantaneous. His whole body tensed and the ever present twinkle in his eyes dimmed a little. But he refused to listen when Harry tried telling him what Tom would become in the future.

“It’s not that I doubt you, Harry, but as I have already explained to you it is very likely that nothing will happen exactly as it did before. We cannot hold young Riddle accountable for something he _might_ do in the future.”

Dumbledore was right in a way. That was why Harry had stayed his wand in the Slytherin common room just hours ago, because Tom wasn’t Voldemort yet. However, he did believe Tom was already rotten to his core, already taking lives and cutting off pieces of his own soul. Things may not turn out exactly the same, but he had no doubt that Tom would chose the path of a dark lord no matter how the world around him was altered.

“But what about the lives he’s already taken? We can hold him accountable for those can’t we, sir? You know he’s the one that opened the chamber of secrets.”

Dumbledore lowered his gaze, perhaps in an attempt to hide the dark expression that settled into place. “I had my suspicions but…” He shook his head slightly, “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing we can do about it now. It’s all in the past.”

“Doesn’t matter? People have died! Please sir, if we could just-”

“Just what? Send the boy to Azkaban?” Dumbledore rose to his feet with a hard edge in his words. “I can’t think of a worse place to send a young impressionable mind, and I will have no part in sending one there.”

Harry wilted in the face of the professor’s clearly uncompromisable feelings. “Then what should I do?” He asked weakly and it came out as little more than a whisper, but Dumbledore still heard and his posture visibly softened. “I won’t, _I can’t_ , just wait around for it all to happen again.”

Dumbledore stepped around his desk, swiftly moving to Harry’s side. He placed a hand lightly on the younger man’s shoulder and replied in a gentle voice. “Harry, I know you want to punish him, but you must understand that Tom Riddle is still just a boy. He may have done terrible, horrible things but he is not incapable of atonement quit yet. We should not take away that chance from him.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel completely hopeless about this whole situation. He found himself lost in memories of his past battles with Voldemort, but this time he envisioned them with himself as a wheezing weak old man. Luckily Dumbledore pulled him from such thoughts before he could dwell on them for too long.

“If you want to change the future, then help the boy. Guide him, teach him, show him that love is far more powerful than the hatred he carries around inside himself.”

Harry’s jaw just about hit the floor. “How?”

“By becoming close to him of course.” The twinkle in his eyes shown brighter than Harry had ever seen before “I can place you close to him. If I do that, do you think you could help him find a better path than the one he chose before?”

The thought of being close to Tom Riddle made Harry nauseous, and apparently it showed.

“Please Harry. I fear that I’ve already lost any chance of helping Tom myself. He’ll have nothing to do with me now. But you, you know him don’t you? You know him very well.” Harry nodded mutely and Dumbledore gave him a dazzling, secretive smile. “I could tell by the way you talk of him. It’s personal to you. I’m sure with you guiding him he could become a better person. Please Harry.”

Harry looked up at the man he once saw as a father figure. The man who had taught him that love was the most powerful magic of all. The man who had spent a good portion his life trying to save Tom Riddle, only to fail. The man who had been forced to send Harry to kill the monster his former student had morphed into. Dumbledore’s gaze was imploring and his hand on Harry’s shoulder gave a tiny squeeze.

He couldn’t say no. Not to this man.

 

***

 

Dumbledore lead an uneasy Harry through the dark deserted halls of Hogwarts. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the silent corridors and disturbed the slumbering portraits, who glared and grumbled at them as they passed underneath. He knew they were headed toward the Headmasters office, could tell by the direction they were walking in, but he was on edge because he didn’t know why they were headed there. He trusted that Dumbledore had a plan, and that was enough because he trusted Dumbledore with his life. He just wished he’d been let in on it before they’d set off. Now, in the eerily quiet halls, he couldn’t gather the courage the break the silence and ask.

They stopped at the gargoyle statue that guarded the entrance into the Headmasters office. Dumbledore gave the password (Hippocampus) and they briskly climbed the spiral staircase upwards. As they neared the door, Harry could hear voices coming from within the office, and he nearly tripped over his own feet when he recognized one of them as Tom Riddles. Dumbledore must have heard as well, but he knocked on the oak door without pause, seemingly unworried.

The murmurs stopped abruptly at the knocks. Then a voice that Harry distantly remembered as belonging to Headmaster Dippet called out loudly. “Come in.”

Dumbledore pushed open the heavy door as if it was nothing and breezed inside. Harry entered closely behind him, silently deciding to let Dumbledore do as much of the talking as possible, and took in the familiar room. Most students would have been ashamed to say that they’d been to the headmaster’s office so many times they were comfortable within its walls, but Harry had never been like most students.

When his eyes landed on Tom the glare he sent his way was mostly instinctive, and he whipped it off as soon as he remembered he was supposed to be playing nice, but the headmaster still saw it.

“This is him, isn’t it?! The Harry Potter that attacked you?!” Dippet spat out Harry’s name like it was poison, and his whole body seemed to tremble with a contained rage that made the few strands of white hair on his head shake. The question was directed toward Tom, who gave an affirmative nod.

“Yes sir it is. Thank Merlin Professor Dumbledore caught him before he did anymore damage.” Though his mask was perfectly in place, and would have convinced the shrewdest of men that he was genuine in his statement, Harry could tell otherwise. The strange connection that he’d felt during their last meeting made itself known again, and he knew, felt, that Tom wasn’t relieved at all that he’d run into Dumbledore. He was frustrated and… suspicious. “However did you manage to get him to come quietly, Professor?”

Dumbledore chose to ignore the question and instead presented one of his own. With a terribly disappointed expression he turned to Harry. “Attacked?”

Harry winced. He really should have mentioned in their conversation earlier that Tom had been there when he’d arrived in this time and that they’d already exchanged words. And spells. “It was just a stunning charm. He’s fine.”

And annoyingly enough it appeared to be true. Tom looked even more perfect now, in the brightly lit office that truly allowed his handsome features to be admired, than he had before Harry had knocked him unconscious.

Dippet however seemed to disagree, and he looked on the verge of exploding. His frail features were quickly turning red with anger, and Harry was almost scared he might hurt himself with all the excitement.

“I’m so very sorry, Armando,” Dumbledore interjected as Dippet opened his mouth to go off on Harry, “but there appears to have been some mistake.”

“Mistake? I’m afraid not, Professor. This is the trespasser that attacked me in the Slytherin common room not three hours ago. Surely you don’t doubt my word, sir?” Tom’s expression was so perfectly serene and innocent it made Harry want to throttle him. He had to bit his tongue and remind himself that Dumbledore had a plan, and would be able to handle this situation with a far cooler head than he ever could.

“Not at all. Besides he’s already admitted himself that he’s the culprit. I merely mean that his attack was a mistake in and of itself.”

The headmaster did not seem to be appeased by Dumbledore’s weak argument. If anything it seemed to annoy him. “Well then when the auror’s arrive I’m sure he’ll have a very good excuse ready for them.” He then turned on Harry. “Do not think I’ll let you get off lightly for this. You’ve attacked one of _my_ students on the grounds of _my_ school. You’ll be serving time in Azkaban if I have anything at all to say about it.”

The glee Harry felt coming from Tom was enough to embolden him into shooting the head boy another glare.

“Armando, while I agree that the ministry should be informed of Mr. Potter, I think it would be far more appropriate to contact the Department of Mystery rather than the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Dippet gritted his teeth, clearly done with this conversation, but somehow managed to force a tense, polite smile. “And why on earth would that be appropriate, Albus?”

“Because they are the ones who specialize in time travel, of course.”

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The anger and tension gave way to confusion and curiosity, with Harry still trapped as the focal point.

He still had no idea what the plan was supposed to be. Hermione had made it seem like you had to be very careful and secretive about time travel, yet here Dumbledore was wanting to call in the ministry.

“Time travel, you say?” The Headmaster was now looking at Harry with something close to wonder.

“Yes. Mr. Potter here has had the misfortune of falling victim to some rather complex time travel magic. The poor man is from nearly sixty years in the future. I shudder to think how rudimentary our flying brooms will appear to him.” Dumbledore got a far off look in his eyes, he gazed out the window over Dippets shoulder at the starry sky outside. Harry almost believed he really was contemplating how far flying brooms would come in sixty years.

In the meantime, Harry could feel Tom’s mood shifting through their connection. He was still happy, but it was no longer because of Harry’s discomfort. Now he was elated for another reason, and though Harry wasn’t entirely sure, the taint of greed he felt coming from the younger boy made him feel relatively sure it was because he was plotting ways to extract six decades of information from Harry. And he wasn’t the only one if the hungry glint in Dippets eyes was anything to go by.

Dumbledore appeared to shake himself out of whatever deep thoughts he’d been having, and again addressed the Headmaster. “Anyway, Armando, we can hardly blame Mr. Potter for being confused after such an ordeal. After all, time travel is infamously disorienting. I’m sure his attack on Riddle is nothing more than a result of the befuddling nature of his arrival to us. Surely we can find it in our hearts to forgive him?”

“But of course, Professor!” Tom eagerly stepped closer to Harry. “In honesty, it is I who should apologize. I was startled by your sudden arrival but still should have been more sympathetic to you and not pressed so hard for information, your disorientation at the time was obvious. Please accept my most sincere apologies, Mr. Potter.”

Unable to trust himself not to make a sarcastic comment, Harry just nodded and plastered on a fake smile, but it seemed to be enough for Tom. The smile he gave in return was blinding.

He knew Tom wasn’t really sorry, he just wanted to get on Harry’s good side. But if he was honest with himself Tom didn’t really have cause to be. He'd been flawlessly polite until Harry had pulled out his wand.

“Well then, that’s that. I think our guest has had enough excitement for one evening, don’t you agree?” Dumbledore looked expectantly at Dippet, whose hungry eyes were still glued on Harry.

“Well, yes… I suppose… but I still have questions for him. And the ministry still needs to be informed.”

“I doubt his answers would change much after a single night of sleep, though they may be more articulate. As for the ministry, they will still be there in the morning. I think we should let our guest run off to bed, and you and I should discuss the situation in more depth privately.”

That last statement did finally manage to tear Dippets gaze away from Harry. He looked at Dumbledore quizzically for a few moments, before his intrigue made him agree.

“Tom, would you be a good lad and take Mr. Potter to one of our guest rooms?”

Tom flashed another perfect smile. “Yes, Headmaster. It would be my pleasure.”

“I think the one with Captain Bard will do.” Headmaster Dippet made sure Tom knew where the room was, then turned and again gave Harry his attention, which was becoming increasingly unnerving. “I do hope you’re comfortable tonight. We will speak further in the morning.”

Harry forced a smile, and found himself envious of how easily Tom seemed to manage fake expressions. “Thank you Headmaster. Good night.” He tried to send a meaningful look to Dumbledore as he left the room, but the professor wasn’t paying him the slightest attention. He was far too absorbed with a book he’d pulled off one of the shelves.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy. It was only his trust in Dumbledore that pulled him from the room without bursting out with questions. Why did the ministry need to be involved? Why was Dumbledore telling everyone he was a time traveler? What was he going to talk with Professor Dippet about? His mind whirled with questions as he walked out of the office.

Tom led the way confidently through the dark halls. Harry distractedly noticed that the portraits didn’t seem nearly as agitated when they saw it was Tom that had disturbed their sleep. A few even drowsily waved at them as they passed by.

Harry followed a weary distance behind Tom. He was tempted to just ask where this ‘Captain Bard’ was so that he could find his own way. It may have been five years, but he still knew the Hogwarts grounds better than most of its professors. But before he could make the suggestion, Tom spoke up.

“I really must apologize again for my rude behavior in the Slytherin common room. I don’t know what came over me.” He slowed his pace so that he and Harry were walking shoulder to shoulder, and Harry was annoyed to realize Tom was taller than him by at least two inches, likely more. It was a stupid thing to be annoyed at, with everything that was going on, but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s nothing really.” He was going to leave it at that, but then Dumbledore’s hopeful face popped into his head. Right. He had to be nice. “I’m sorry too, by the way. For stunning you.”

Tom held up a hand and gracefully swept it to the side. “Think nothing of it. Like Dumbledore said, you were disoriented.”

Harry did not miss that Tom had dropped the Professor in front of Dumbledore’s name, just as he’d often done for Professor Snape. Dumbledore had been right about him losing Tom’s respect.

“Yeah. Right.”

They walked in awkward silence for a bit, though Tom didn’t seem uneasy in the least. He held his chin high and his gaze was level in front of them. Harry couldn’t help but fidget and look to the side, away from the boy next to him. Despite what he’d promised Dumbledore, he really did not feel ready to be convincing anyone to change their life goals right now, least of all the future dark lord Voldemort. He just wanted a comfortable pillow and some warm sheets to sink in between.

“I don’t mean to pry, but do you know me?”

The polite question startled Harry more than it should have, and he froze in place. Tom took a few more steps before he too stopped and then turned to face Harry.

“What?”

“Do you know me?” Harry’s heart pounded furiously in his chest and his mind raced as Tom calmly observed him. “It’s just, for a few moments, when you had your wand pointed at me, it felt personal. At the time I wrote it off to my imagination, but seeing as you’re a time traveler I wondered if perhaps my first impression wasn’t so far off.”

Harry swallowed thickly, and Tom’s calculating eyes dipped down for a moment to his throat, noting the movement.

This was perfect.

Just perfect.

Here he was, alone with his future enemy, and he’d been completely thrown off by a single question that he should have seen coming a mile away. That had to have been Tom’s plan. Ask something like this when Harry was least expecting an interrogation and was falling asleep on his feet, and he’d get if not an honest answer then at least an honest reaction.

He did his best to school his expression, but he had nowhere near mastered a poker face, and he doubted there was much Tom’s keen eyes missed. He could lie, but then what was the point? Tom would know, and that would make him more suspicious.

“Yes.”

With that he started walking again, he passed Tom and left the boy behind. He was nearly at the end of the hall and wondering if he should turn right or left, when the head boy caught up to him panting.

Tom led him right, and he followed, his expression as emotionless as he could make it, but the tension he felt was palpable it was practically staining the ground he walked on, leaving a plain trail for all to see.

Tom’s breathing had already evened out, and he continued his questioning. “How?”

“How what?” Harry asked even though he already knew the answer. He needed to stall.

“How did we know each other?”

Harry tried to pick up their pace, but in retaliation Tom slowed his, and as he had no idea where they were going, he was forced to slow as well.

“We’ve met a few times.” Harry doubted he could pull off a believable lie right now, but that didn’t mean he had to be forthcoming with any information. He’d be as annoyingly vague as he could possibly be.

“Where?”

“Different places.”

“Such as?"

“Well, Hogwarts for one.”

It was slowly dawning on Harry that they must be taking the long way. They were practically walking around in circles.

“What was I doing at Hogwarts?”

“Visiting.”

“Why?”

“For various reasons.”

Harry was quickly losing his patience, and he wasn’t the only one. Tom’s irritation was oozing into Harry’s head like a toxic molasses. He could sense when Tom decided to change tactics.

“Were we on good terms? It didn’t seem that way in the common room.”

Harry had to think about that one. If he said yes, then that would be the most obvious lie he’d ever told. If he said no then it could seriously damage his chances of getting close to Tom.

His tired eyes burned and he tightly closed them, yearning for a bed more than anything.

“We were…” he hesitated for just a breath, but he could see Tom’s eyes narrow at the pause. “Close. We were close.”

It was true. They were probably closer than two souls had ever been before or ever would be, though Harry hated the fact.

Tom opened his mouth, more questions ready to flow out, but Harry stopped him. “Look, I know you have a lot of questions, but I’m tired. And I don’t really feel comfortable giving out any information about the future before I know what the rules for this kind of thing are.”

Surely there were rules. If the ministry was to be involved, like Dumbledore and Dippet had assured him they would be, then there was likely a whole list of them.

“Of course. I’m sorry for pressing.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harry heaved out a great sigh.

“It’s just… it hardly seems fair that we have a history together that only you are privy to. If we were close as you said, then there is surely much I don’t know. I just want to know where we stand.”

Harry refused to answer for a long time. The whole while he could feel Tom’s sharp eyes boring into him, waiting. Finally, they reached a grand portrait of a dirty pirate, who was leaning against a palm tree on a sandy tropical beach and swigging down a bottle of rum like it was water. Underneath in elegant cursive it read “Captain Joseph J. Bard.”

“Wha’ be the passssword, ya lan’lubbers!” Going by the slur in his speech, the captain was inebriated. The trees trunk was the only thing keeping him standing, and he squinted up blearily at them through his one good eye.

Harry glanced over at Tom hopefully, but the stony expression he found there told him that he wasn’t getting the password until Tom got some sort of answer. Perhaps if he wasn’t so exhausted Harry would have put up more of a fight and stayed silent longer, but as it was he conceded to Tom this one minute victory.

“It’s complicated.”

Tom didn’t bother trying to mask his distaste. “That tells me nothing.”

“Well. It’s true. Look, you and me? We’re about as complicated as it gets. And you’re right. There _is_ a lot of history between us, too much to tell in just one night.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, not willing to give up yet. “Were we friends?”

Harry narrowed his eyes right back. “You don’t _have_ friends. You have people who are useful to you.”

The surprise on Tom’s face was delicious. Harry enjoyed the small triumph before he quickly moved on. “I get that you’re curious, but I’ve had a very long day, and not nearly enough time to process all this. I promise we’ll talk about our past later, alright?”

The head boy consider that. Harry could feel his unwillingness to leave, his curiosity was bubbling up and out of him. He wanted answers, he wanted them desperately, and he had little patience to wait. Harry did his best to appear resolute on the subject. Surely Tom wouldn’t push too hard and risk losing Harry as a potential source of information. After a few tense minutes Tom whipped off his hard expression and replaced it with a generous grin.

“Again, I’m sorry for pressing the matter.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“The password is St. Clementine.”

The painting of the drunk pirate Bard swung wide open, allowing entrance to a snug, brightly lit bedroom. Harry looked longingly at the large bed within, it looked so very inviting.

“Thank you, Tom.”

“Of course.”

Harry stepped over the entrance, he grabbed hold of the painting and began pulling it closed. When just a sliver of the corridor beyond was left visible, he heard a devilishly silky voice call out softly to him. “Good night, Harry. Have pleasant dreams.”

He didn’t reply, only pulled the entrance firmly shut. He stood there shaking, for longer than he’d ever admit to. Then he dragged his heavy feet across the floor and collapsed into the cozy bed he’d been pining for for the last hour. He was unconscious before his head even touched the pillow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That whole scene with Tom at the end? None of it planned. He's a primadonna that demanded he take up nearly half the chapter by hassling poor Harry.


	5. Strictly Procedure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are a lot of conversations and we see the beginnings of a plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, so sorry for the long absence. I've got a long list of excuses, but I won't bore you with them. Anyway here's (finally) a new chapter. It's a little rough, because i rushed it a bit and I'm using a new program to write. I'll probably come back and clean it up latter, but I wanted to post this before you all completely lost interest.
> 
> I'd also like to thank all of you that continued to leave me comments. It really meant a lot to me :)

 

When Harry awoke the next morning, he had a few blissful seconds of ignorance in which he stretched and sank deeper into the unusually comfortable bed he found himself in. Then reality, and the memories of what had happened the day before, came crashing down on him and in his thrashing to get out from under the sheets he somehow managed to fall face first out of bed and onto the cold stone floor. He jumped to his feet in a panic, whipping his head from side to side, half expecting Tom Riddle to be hiding in the shadows. Once it became clear to him that he was alone in the room, and there were no future dark lords lying in wait about to attack him, Harry collapsed back into the bed.

He could just go back to sleep.

Couldn’t he?

He could ignore reality for a bit and fall back into the euphoric void that was unconsciousness.

Right? At least for five more minutes?

Apparently not. His racing mind and twisting stomach refused to give him any choice in the matter. He had to get up and face his first day in the wrong time, and figure out what to do with the rest of his life. How fun.

Harry dragged himself off of the plush mattress and onto his reluctant feet. After a quick scourgify charm to clean his robes, the only things he now owned besides his wand, Harry wandered out of the guest room.

Captain Bard's portrait was near the Ravenclaw Tower so it wasn't too difficult for Harry to navigate his way toward the Great Hall. He assumed that's where he'd find anyone who was awake. The halls of Hogwarts were familiar and not a whole lot different from when he'd been a student. Perhaps a few of the portraits were different, but the suits of armor still squeaked and the staircases still moved and Peeves still took the time to throw bits of chalk at Harry as he walked by. It was like coming home after a very long journey and by the time he reached the Great Hall his spirits were higher than they'd been in ages.

Walking inside, Harry noticed at last that something was off. Rather than the five long tables that usually graced the Hall, one for each of the houses and another for the staff, there was only one in the center of the large room and only a handful of students and staff sat solemnly at it. Thinking back, Harry realized the school was nearly deserted. He may have been wandering around at odd hours, but he really should have seen more students, especially last night in the Slytherin common room. Why hadn't someone come running when Harry had stupified Tom?

Perturbed and suddenly unsure of himself, Harry scanned the table for familiar faces but found none. A few shot him curious glances, but no one said anything when he sat down a few seats away from two middle-aged witches in dull robes. He helped himself to a piece of toast, covering it generously in marmalade, and kept his eyes trained on his plate while he politely pretended he couldn't hear the hushed conversation of the witches next to him.

"Who's that, you reckon?"

"No idea. Probably another ministry drudge come to tell us everything is fine and to remain calm." She snorted. "Rubbish. As if we don't know what's _really_ going on in the world."

"Oh, come now. You really must try to stay positive. Especially in times like these."

"Stay positive? Stay positive? We'll be invaded by Christmas and come new year we'll be under a dictatorship, oh yes, but I should stay positive!"

"Honestly, Galatea. Do stop being so dramatic. Grindelwald will never make it to England."

The toast he'd been about to take a bite of froze halfway to Harry's, suddenly very dry, mouth.

Grindelwald.

Oh no.

How could he have forgotten about Grindelwald?

The witch named Galatea gave a harsh, humorless laugh. "That's exactly what my sister thought about France. Stop worrying, she'd say, France is safe, she'd say, Grindelwald's followers will _never_ invade Paris." She pushed away her untouched plate, a look of disgust on her face. "Well she was wrong and I haven't gotten so much as an owl from her in over a month."

The younger witch gave her a comforting pat on the back. "I'm sure she's alright. Yours is a pureblood family, after all. He wouldn't hurt her."

Galatea didn't listen though. She stood from her seat and swept out of the Great Hall without another word. Harry was almost tempted to follow her example. He'd quite lost his appetite.

Grindelwald. The dark wizard hadn’t even crossed his mind. Harry could hex himself. Though to be fair, he’d been quit preoccupied with another long-dead dark lord being alive and hadn’t had much room in his head for anyone else. Wracking his brain, Harry tried to remember all he could about Grindelwald. It wasn’t much, and most everything he could remember was about his past with Dumbledore, not about how he'd nearly brought all of the wizarding world to its knees.

Was that why Hogwarts was nearly deserted? Because the world was at war?

Grindelwald had never really been much a problem for Harry before. Dumbledore had defeated him decades before Harry had even been born, and the dark lord had spent the rest of his life in prison until Voldemort had tortured and killed him for information. He did know the man was dangerous. Nearly as powerful and influential as Voldemort had been at his height. He’d almost taken over the world, and for all Harry knew he just might yet. He’d already altered history, according to Dumbledore, but just how drastically?

His head was spinning and his stomach was rolling, he’d half convinced himself to hunt down Dumbledore and demand answers, but then someone shouted out to him from the Halls entrance.

“Mr. Potter!” The call drew Harry’s attention and he saw Headmaster Dippet shuffling over to him as quickly as his short legs would allow. “There you are! I was worried when no one was in your room.” The old man finally reached the table. “Thought you might have run off on us.”

Harry put down his toast, abandoning any pretense that he was actually going to be doing any eating. “I’ve got no where to run off to.” He said honestly.

Dippet just nodded his head, “Yes, well, I see you’ve eaten. Have you finished? Need more time? I must say the scones are a particular weakness of mine. No? Well, then we’d best get started. Follow me if you will.”

He turned on his heel, and Harry scrambled after him, leaving behind the dark thoughts that had tormented him, and focusing on more relevant problems. “Sorry, Sir, but where are we going?”

He scrambled after the surprisingly quick old man, struggling to match his swift pace.

“The Ministry’s sent over a few people to speak with you. Nothing to worry about, it’s all strictly procedure for this kind of situation. They’ll ask a few questions, get an official statement, that sort of thing. It’ll all be done before lunch and then you and I can have a chat about the future.”

“Err...”

“Oh Merlin! No, no, no. Not _the_ future. But _your_ future. Here with us.” Dippet chuckled uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t dream of exploiting your knowledge, my dear boy.” Harry huffed, entirely sure that was not the case, and vowed to always be careful of what he said around the old headmaster.

He was lead to the east side of the castle, into an old classroom. As Harry entered, Tom was leaving. The sight of him put Harry on edge, but handsome boy just flashed a grin as he passed and disappeared around a corner.

Now much more tense than he'd been previously, Harry was ready for whatever the Ministry of Magic had in store for him this time. However, as it turned out, it _was_ all strictly procedure. Dull, uneventful procedure.

The ministry had sent three people to met with him. First, he spoke with a middle-aged auror who had him recount the day before about a dozen times, questioning every statement Harry made and squinting suspiciously at him whenever he needed to pause and search his memory. Then he sat uncomfortably while an unspeakable ran various tests on him, none of which made any sense to Harry, but if the nod he was given at the end was any indication, then he'd passed them all. Finally, he met with a pretty witch from the ministers own office whom Harry thought smiled too much. She had him fill out a few parchments with basic personal information, answering such questions as full name, age, blood-status, previous occupation, schooling. It felt rather like he was filling out a resume. When he finally finished all the paper work his hand was cramping and his stomach was demanding sustenance, but it didn't appear that he'd be allowed to eat just yet.

“Now,” the witch collected the parchments and stiffly placed them into her bag. She then pulled out a small pamphlet which she handed to Harry. “This is for you. I suggest you read it carefully before speaking with anyone about the future.”

The pamphlet was a dark indigo, with cheery yellow letters on the cover that read _Temporal Displacement and You_. Harry somehow doubted the booklet would have much more information than what Dumbledore already had given him, but he accepted the pamphlet anyway, and stuffed it into his pocket to read later.

He almost couldn't believe that this was it. A few questions, a few tests, and a pamphlet. That was all. He'd almost expected panic, or maybe some intense interrogation about the future. They'd made this all seem so... normal. Like people fell into the wrong time everyday. But then again, this was the wizarding world and this had happened to people before...

“So Harry,” The blond said with a hollow smile, “Any idea what you're going to do now?”

To be honest he'd been trying really hard not to think about it. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his future. He only knew that he didn't want the world to become what it had been before. “No, I don't.”

“Well, have you ever considered a career in politics?”

Harry burst out laughing, and the witch looked stricken. He supposed it was kind of rude to laugh in someones face when the were suggesting you take up their own profession, so he did his best to contain his laughter and managed somewhat to stifle it. The grin, however, was such a lost cause that he didn't even try to fight it. “Sorry, but if you knew me,” but that was the thing. She didn't. For the first time since he'd entered the wizarding world at age eleven he was anonymous, and it was kind of wonderful. “If you knew me, you'd know I've had enough of politics for one lifetime. Too many bad experiences, I'm afraid.”

Composing herself, the blond reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. Handing it to Harry her fake smile returned. “If you ever change your mind, the Minister himself asked me to give this to you. He thinks someone with your _insights_ could go very far.”

Harry accepted the card, but didn't really look at it. He wasn't interested. And if they thought he was going to use his _insights_ for them then he was doubly uninterested. Politicians.

Harry left the classroom feeling rather like he'd just completed a very difficult and very important exam. He hadn't gotten very far when someone called out for him.

“Harry! Are you finally done? It felt like you were in there for ages.”

“Tom.” Harry turned and saw the young head boy lounging inside a nook alongside the statue of an ugly hunchbacked wizard. The contrasting aesthetics made Toms handsome features shine through even stronger than usual. “Have you been waiting for me all this time?”

“Of course. You did promise we would talk.” Tom had a spring in his step as he walked over to Harry, and the smile he wore was genuine, if a bit smug.

“Yeah. I did.” And wasn't he regretting it already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bad with cliff hangers :p sorry bout that. 
> 
> If you noticed any errors or inconsistencies please point them out to me! I will be eternally grateful!


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